Ophelia Warrant
by Inky.Is.My.Name
Summary: Ophelia Vadra Warrant has been raised by a general all her life, and it's a life surrounded by dark secrets. Will she find love on the battlefield, or will she succumb to war?
1. Chapter 1

Between the Wounded and the Guns there was Peace #1

It was 1950. That was all Ophelia was sure of. Besides the fact that she was going somewhere near Ouijongbu, there was a 'police action' on and she was turning nineteen in three days. Oh and the fact that her life was sucking right now. She was starting to get really creeped out by the heliocopter pilot, who was staring at her. Maybe she had worn too short of a dress. But it was the only one that wasn't fatigue green. Ophelia hated fatigue green. She had ever since she was five.

The chopper roared as it landed. A middle aged man met the helicopter. He wasn't wearing any army fatigues, what stood out most was a beige vest and a fishing hat. But in the middle a silver leaf showed he was a Lieutient Colonel. He offered Ophelia his hand. She grasped it and stumbled out of the chopper. The Lieutent Colonel helped her up and asked her a question. She couldn't hear him, the helicopter was so loud, but she nodded anyway. When the pair were at the end of the landing area the chopper roared louder and took off.

"Hello, I'm Henry Blake, commanding officer." The Lieutient Colonel said. Ophelia nodded politely, like she had been taught in London.

"I'm Ophelia Warrant. Neurosurgeon, Lieutient Colonel. It is a pleasure." Henry Blake studied the young woman in front of him. She had blond hair, piled on top of her head, with choice strands falling around her face. A young, beautiful face. Pretty ice blue eyes that complemented her complexcion perfectly. She had a slim body, she was wearing a whimiscal, pale yellow, summer dess. She had a small bag with her and was carrying a small red book, but Henry couldn't read the title. Though on the outside she seemed cool and collected, maybe even a little detatched, Henry could almost sense the roughness, the sorrow and the tragedy surrounding her life. But Henry pushed this out of his mind and decided she couldn't be over twenty.

In turn Ophelia studied her surroundings. She was on top of a small plateu. Beneath her a camp was spread out. She had seen many camps like this in her life. But none interested her as much as this one did. The Four-O-Seven-Seventh MASH, huh? She thought. Henry Blake seemed calm, on the outside, but inside she knew he would fall apart under any type of stress. Ophelia could read people. It was a skill she had devloped over the years, it was needed for her survival.

"Do you want to meet everyone else?" Henry Blake asked. Ophelia started.

"Yes I would like that very much." Only now did Henry register the slight accent in her voice. It was a mixture of German and British, maybe a little Irish.

"I forgot to bring a jeep. Do you mind if we walk?" Henry asked.

"No not at all." Ophelia smiled brightly. Her teeth were perfectly white and straight.

"Where are you from?" Henry asked a quarter way down the trail/road.

"I was born in America, Philedelphia actually, raised in Belfast, Ireland until I was four, then I moved from Germany to Phily back and forth for about two years, then I lived at different military bases until I was fifteen. Then I lived in Massachausets for two years and I ended back in Phily again before I forced my step-father to let me join the army."

"Did your mother re-marry soon after your father?" Henry asked politely. He recoiled a bit when Ophelia gave him a hard look.

"Both of my parents died when I was four." Ophelia's voice was hard, but not fragile.

"Sorry," Henry said, but Ophelia only shook her head before smiling brightly again. "Uh... you joined voluntarily?"

"Yes. My step-father... General Inglese didn't want me too, but I did anyway."

"How old are you?" Henry asked. It had been bothering him for some time. They were almost to his office.

"Eighteen." Ophelia said. "I will be nineteen in three days."

"When did you graduate high school? Colleage?" Henry was interested.

"I graduated high school at fifteen and colleage at seventeen. I was finishing up my residency when I decided to come to Korea. Ever been in any other wars?" Ophelia didn't get an answer, they had reached Henry Blake's office.

A short young man with glasses was sitting at the desk. He clearly was the clerk.

"Miss Warrant, meet Radar, our clerk." Henry said before pushing through the swinging doors seperating Radar's office from Henry's. Radar had stood at the word 'miss' and was standing stiff, facing the wall.

"Hello." Ophelia said. She was studying him. He wasn't used to girls, that was obvious to any retard. More later, she thought before going into Henry's office. Two other men were there. One was wearing a bathrobe. The other was wearing a doctor's white coat. Ophelia felt very shy all of the sudden. She never felt shy, especially around men. But there was something special about these two. Especially the tall blond one.

"Pierce, MacIntyre." Henry nodded. They nodded back. "Meet miss Warrant. The new Neurosuregeon."

"Neurosurgeon, eh? Impressive." The tall, blond one said.

"Thank you." Ophelia smiled delicately.

"Have any knowledge in general surgery?" The dark-haired one asked.

"Yes. But only a little." Ophelia sat nimbly in the seat Henry waved to. He noticed there was a certain glow around her as she stared at the two doctors.

"Now, Ophelia. Your quarters are with Margaret Houlihan, the head nurse."

"You can keep an eye on her." MacIntyre joked.

"Enough Trapper." Henry said.

"Who's Margaret Houlihan?" Ophelia asked.

"A walking billboard for-" Pierce started as Farnk Burns and Margaret Houlihan walked in with Radar at their heels. "And he said whatever you do don't tell Frank." Pierce finished. Frank opened his mouth, but he didn't speak. Margaret did.

"Pierce, shut up." Margaret said. Ophelia felt something by her left ear. Air came, them Trapper pulled back. He smiled at her. He just blew in my ear! Ophelia thought. But had he? She asked herself. She turned in her chair to face Frank and Margaret. Radar saw Ophelia for the first time. She was pretty, no... beautiful.

"Who are you?" Frank asked harshly. Ophelia noted the slight note of fear. "Visitors aren't allowed without passes." He was sort of snobbish. But Ophelia could tell he was such a loser that he needed to cling to the only thing that would have him and partially liked him, the army.

"I'm not a visitor, though. I'm Ophelia Warrant."

"A new nurse?" Margaret asked eagerly.

"No. You must be Margaret Houlihan." Ophelia said out loud.

"I already told you that." Trapper said.

"Must not have heard you." Ophelia shrugged before shaking Margaret's hand.

"I said it right in your ear." That was the air she felt. Trapper talking. Why didn't I hear? She asked herself, even though she already knew the answer. It had come back. The deafness. She thought it was gone. No. She had been sure it was gone. Positively sure. Right? Ophelia forced herself back to the conversation.

"If your not a new nurse, then who are you?" Margaret asked.

"I'm the new doctor."

"Women can't be doctors." Frank almost shouted.

"I'm not a woman, I'm Ophelia Vadra Warrant." Ophelia smiled lightly before standing, straightening her dress and walking towards the door. "Oh, Margaret, where is you tent? I need to put my bag away before I eat. And change of course."

"Do you need help?" Pierce asked.

"No."

"Not with finding Margaret's tent? Unpacking? Changing?"

"Cut it out, Hawkeye." Trapper said.

"Hawkeye? Is that from _The Last Mohicans_?" Ophelia asked.

"Yeah." Hawkeye beamed at her as she turned with Margaret.

Margaret led Ophelia to her tent. "I guess we'll have to paint your name on the door." Margaret laughed. Ophelia smiled. Margaret help Ophelia unpack, only to find only dresses, shirts, pants and shorts of army fatigue green. Then Ophelia slipped her fingers under the clothes and lifted upward. The secret compartment revealed a set of leather-bound and worn books. There were five, counting the one Ophelia hadn't let go of. There was also a small box with a picture of two adults and a small child messily glued to the top. "Is this you family?" Margaret asked kindly. Ophelia pursed her lips before answering.

"They were." Ophelia shifted through the clothes and pulled out a very old, very loved porcelin doll. She set her very gently in a sitting position on her end table. The doll's hair was knotted, her clothes ragged, her eyes almost gone but yet, she had a charm about her. Next to her Ophelia placed the four books from the bottom. She tucked the fifth under her pillow, turned to Margaret and placed a finger to her lips. Next she put the small box down. Margaret left and Ophelia kissed her fingers then touched the box before leaving after her. "Sleep tight." She whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

Between the Wounded and the Guns there was Peace #2

Margaret led Ophelia through the compound to the Mess tent. A man in a dress was in front of them. When he noticed they were behind him, he opened the door. "Klinger." Margaret nodded curtly. The Mess tent wasn't filled to capacity, but it seemed to Ophelia everyone in the camp was there. Henry Blake waved them over to him. At the table was Hawkeye, Trapper, Radar, Frank, now Margaret and Ophelia and someone else she hadn't met yet. Ophelia sat down gently beside Hawkeye, she hadn't changed her dress. Henry cleared his throat. Most heads turned, but not all.

"Thanks for coming." He laughed nervously. "Uh anyways. I would like you all to meet our newest addition, Dr. Warrant. Please stand." Ophelia stood, but she was still to short. So she stepped up onto the bench.

"Hello." Ophelia smiled one of her lovely smiles. Trapper could see most of the male crowd under her spell already. "I'm Ophelia Warrant, M.D." She stepped down.

"Any questions?" Henry asked. A couple hands went up. Henry picked the man in the dress. "Klinger?"

"I have two. How old are you and what's you rank?" Klinger smiled expectingly.

"Well, my rank is Lieutient Colonel and I am eighteen-going-on-nineteen." Ophelia smiled warmly. "Anything else?"

"What school did you go to?" The other man at Ophelia's table asked.

"Harvard. And what is your name? I haven't met you yet." Ophelia asked.

"This here is Father Macalhuy." Hawkeye said.

"Nice to meet you Father. Are you Irish?"

"Yes, I am."

"I lived in Ireland for a while."

"That's very nice. Do you remembe it?" Ophelia knew the Father was a very nice man, but he wouldn't be afarid to sock you one if you deserved it.

"No. Do you box?"

"Yes." Father Macalhuy seemed pleased she had noticed. "What is you religon?" Ophelia was shocked. No one had ever asked her religion before.

"I'm not that religous."

"Ever been to church?" Ophelia had, once. It was Christmas day, 1936, she was four, going on five. It was her 'present' to go to church and see her parents' double funeral. She had never been to a church before, or since and her step-father didn't bring it up. He was more like her adopted father, but she would never call him Da, like she had called her birth father.

"Once. Christmas day." Ophelia had gotten surly again, her face hard with no emotion. Then, as suddenly as the hard look had appeared, it disappeared, replaced by a wide smile. They must think I'm Bipolar... Ophelia thought, Heck, maybe I am. This made her grin even more. The happy occasion was interrupted by the loud speaker:

"Wounded!" Everyone around Ophelia scrambled. She was slightly confused but followed, then she understood; Triage.

Several hours later and Ophelia, Trapper, Hawkeye and Henry stumbled out.

"I need a drink." Henry said wearly.

As they neared Margaret's and Ophelia's tent, Henry left and they noticed there already was two people in the tent. Hawkeye snuck over to the side and waved the other two over. They went over and squated next to each other. They heard a voice that was loserish and snobbish. Frank.

"Oh, Margaret."

"Ssssh. Ophelia will be back soon."

"She shouldn't even be allowed to operate. She's a woman, not to mention a child." Frank said. Margaret giggled.

Ophelia's anger boiled and she narrowed her eyes. She stood, turned on heel and walked away to post-op. She slammed the door open and scared some boys who were resting. One noticed her distress.

"Is something wrong?" He asked. She glared at him, making him sort of wish he hadn't said anything. Then she softened and he was glad he had talked after all.

"Not much, only a couple of losers." Ophelia sat in the chair next to him. "So what's your name?"

"Adrian Hansen. You?"

"Ophelia Warrant. Adrian.. unusual. I like it." Ophelia smiled. Adrian felt like melting.

"Ophelia? Like Shakespere?" Adrian sat up a little.

"You read Shakespere?" Ophelia asked.

"Yes, I do. Shakespere is just wonderful!" Adrian felt woozy, but it wasn't from his wound.

"_What light through yonder window breaks_?" Ophelia quoted.

"That was perfect!" Adrian said eagerly.

"Da always belived Hamlet was the greatest love story in the world." Ophelia said wistfully.

"My father isn't big on reading, but I belive that too." Adrian said as the door to post-op opened again, this time it was Trapper and Hawkeye.

"Come on, Ophelia. You need to sleep." Trapper layed a hand on Ophelia's shoulder. She shook it off and scooted the chair closer to Adrian.

"I'm fine. I'm not sleeping anywhere near Margaret Houlihan." Ophelia puffed.

"One of the losers?" Adrian whispered and Ophelia nodded.

"You mean Hot Lips?" Trapper asked. Ophelia turned quickly to look at him.

"What?!"

"Nothing. Listen you don't have to bunk with her tonight... You can... bunk with us." Hawkeye said.

"Really?"

"Yea, really." Trapper helped Ophelia up and she waved bye to Adrian. He sunk back into his pillow as they left. The man next to him turned over to face him.

"Who was she?"

"Ophelia." Adrian answered.

"Well, why did she talk to you?"

"Shakespere."

"Who's he?"

"Playwrite."

"I'm JD Cutter."

"Adrian Hansen."

"Next time she comes in, steer her over here. I want a piece of the action." JD said.

"K, will do." Adrian closed his eyes and fell alseep, at the same time, across the compound, Ophelia was dreaming of a land where the hills were green and

rolling and everybody was like Adrian Hansen and nobody wore green. Ever.

It was the sun that woke her up. A thin strip, right across her eyes. She sat up and blinked before looking around. Trapper and Hawkeye were already gone. Ophelia got out of bed and faced the two mens' empty beds. She yawned and rubbed her hair. Ophelia left the tent and wandered towards Margaret's tent. Margaret was gone, too. Ophelia dug through the secret compartment to find another summer dress. It was white. She slipped it on and fixed her hair into curls.

It wasn't hard, her hair had always been curly. Her mother would croon over it and she would hate it, but since they died she had never gotten a hair cut. She was afraid she would lose the curls.

Ophelia left the tent and walked through the camp. Her stomach growled and her feet took her to the Mess tent. Everyone was there, eating. Ophelia got into line and picked out her favorite foods. The man serving the food just stared at her.

"I wouldn't eat that." He said.

"And why?" Ophelia looked at him.

"That stuff is left over from World War two!"

"Don't you ever mention World War two to me! Now give me what I want." Ophelia said angrily. The man piled the food onto her plate. He didn't realize Ophelia Warrant had grown up on army food. After all, she was raised by a General. She walked away with her food, passing up the coffee, she never drank coffee. Ophelia sat at the table where Hawkeye was. "Who is that rude man passing out the food? He told me not to get my favorite food."

"Okay... his name is Igor and you actually eat and like this food?" Hawkeye asked as he sniffed his food.

"Yes, there's nothing wrong with it." Ophelia answered as Trapper sat.

"And where were you?" Hawkeye asked.

"I was giving a physical." Trapper winked. Ophelia sniffed.

"Charming." She said.

"Nice dress. Who's your tailor?" Klinger asked as he passed.

"I am. My step-father abhors anything not approved by the military." Ophelia waved her hand absent-mindly.

"You've got to show me your patterns!" Klinger said. Ophelia felt a little alarmed by this man's eagerness at a dress.

"Are you okay? Mentally?" Ophelia asked. Trapper and Hawkeye grinned, but Klinger's grin was bigger.

"Do you really think I'm that unstable? Do you think I'm a danger? That I need a section eight?" Klinger said loudly.

"Ah... a section eight. I see. Well, you were about to get one, until you expressed you joy and wanting for it." Ophelia smiled kindly as Klinger looked crestfallen. "I have buisness in post-op. See you later." Ophelia said as she stood and left.


End file.
